


Soup & Syrup

by suckerfordeansfreckles



Series: Short Destiel Drabbles [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Cuddling & Snuggling, Disgustingly sweet, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Friends to Lovers, Gentleness, Getting Together, M/M, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Sick Character, Soft Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/pseuds/suckerfordeansfreckles
Summary: Cas started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel his and Dean's weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird.Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called.This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.





	Soup & Syrup

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, as soon as the call connects. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean mumbles into the speaker, sounding soft and half-asleep. “Fuck, you don’t sound so good.”

“Yeah, it’s—” he has to break off into a coughing fit, returning to the phone with his voice sounding even raspier. And it speaks volumes that even he himself notices it. “It’s gotten worse.”

He started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel their weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird. 

Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called.

This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.

“— over? Cas?” Dean speaks against his ear, low and urgent, and Cas realizes that he hasn’t been listening at all during the past few moments.

“Sorry?” he rasps. “I spaced out for a bit.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and this time it’s soft, but still somewhat urgent.

“I feel a little better, spent most of the evening asleep and drinking tea. I’m just… groggy and weird. And my cough isn’t going away,” Cas says. Maybe pouts, but Dean can’t see that, so he’s good for now.

“I have some cough syrup at home. You want me to come over and bring it?” Dean shoots back immediately, no hesitation in his voice.

“It’s way too late, but thank you. Maybe tomorrow you cou—” his voice breaks in the middle of his sentence, and that hurts his throat so much, that he falls into another coughing fit. He tries to cover it by pressing his phone against his sweater-covered stomach and coughing into the crook of his arm, but as soon as his lungs have calmed down and he pulls his phone back to his ear to restart his sentence, Dean interrupts.

“I’m coming over,” he says, worried and determined. “I’m picking up soup and bringing the syrup. You need anything else?”

Cas is stunned into a few seconds of silence, can’t help the way his heart clenches in his chest with happiness and something way too close to the desperate love he has been suppressing for months, now. “I — Thank you, Dean. That — You’re amazing. Maybe you could bring a change of clothes and… stay over, tonight?”

“Sure,” Dean breathes. “Okay, be there in 15. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

And before Cas can reply anything at all, Dean ends the call and Cas is left alone with his thoughts.

He realizes, suddenly, how disgusting he currently is. He rips open the windows in his bedroom and living room, hopes for a breeze that will bring in some fresh air, and hops into his shower — hoping that his downstairs neighbors won’t hate him for all the noise at 1:27 a.m. 

When he steps out of the shower after a quick scrubbing and the cool air hits him, he starts shivering like crazy. It doesn’t seem to matter how long he uses his towel to rub himself dry, how he uses his blow-dryer for the first time in ages or that he puts on sweatpants and two pairs of socks and his coziest sweater, he’s still shaking when he sinks down on his couch and wraps a blanket around himself. At least he isn’t smelling so bad anymore. Just in case Dean feels like giving im a hug, or something.

Cas is fighting sleep again, head lolling back against the headrest of the couch, when Dean arrives and Cas hears him unlock the front door.

Dean switches on the lights as he steps inside and closes the door behind himself, and as soon as Cas managed to blink his eyes open in the bright light, he finds Dean slipping out of his shoes, a soft smile on his lips and a plastic bag in his hand. 

“Hey there,” he says, pulling off his jacket and closing the distance between them to sink down on the couch next to Cas, one leg pulled up so he’s facing Cas.

“Hello,” Cas rasps, sitting up so he can look at Dean. 

“I got some chicken broth and this vegetable thing, wasn’t sure what you’d want.” Dean pulls the containers from the bag, sets them down on the table and leans back again. “When was the last time you had some food?”

“I had some cereal for breakfast today, but mostly I just… didn’t feel hungry at all. I could eat now, though. I take the vegetable thing and you can have chicken,” he says, trying to suppress a smile at the way Dean lights up with relief. 

“Awesome,” Dean laughs, and then he’s up and rummaging through Cas’ kitchen for spoons. 

They eat in silence, straight from the plastic containers, sitting side by side and gently bumping elbows every now and then. When they are done, Dean grabs Cas’ spoon and fills it with the cough syrup, going as far as raising it up to Cas’ lips so he can slurp it up in an, unfortunately, very unattractive way that has both of them snorting a little.

“Thank you,” Cas says. “Seriously, for everything.”

“Dude, of course. You sounded — I mean, honestly, you still don’t sound so good. All… growly,” he blushes a little, and Cas can’t do anything but find him unreasonably delightful. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Dean clears his throat. “Growly and raspy. Um. And with the red nose and flushed cheeks.”

“You like that?” Cas can’t help but ask, and he’ll just blame this bluntness on the raising fever later on.

Dean blushes even harder, a lovely shade of crimson that has his eyes looking impossibly greener. “I mean —I like your voice plenty enough, when you’re healthy and feeling good.”

“You do?” Cas grins, voice pitched even lower, and he can’t help but laugh at the way Dean shivers and sinks into the couch a little deeper. “Do you wanna watch something?” he asks, so Dean can deflect in that way he always likes to do.

“Sure, yeah,” he coughs, eyes averted. He gets up and starts Netflix on the tv, starting up season one of Brooklyn 9/9, Cas’ most favorite comfort show. When he sinks back on the couch, it’s a little closer by Cas’ side.

They watch for a little while before Cas starts to shiver again, so Dean wanders off to get Cas’ blanket and switch off the lights. When he returns to the couch, Cas is stretched out along the edge. “Would you… hold me?” he asks, raspy and honestly quite miserable. 

Dean looks down at him a little hesitant for a few long seconds, but then he smiles wide and determined, blurts “sure,” and snuggles down between Cas and the back of the couch and carefully wraps his arms around Cas’ middle. “This okay?” he asks, pulling the soft blanket up around them.

“Mhm,” Cas sighs softly, “very much so.” He melts back against Dean’s chest, and feels Dean’s heart pick up speed just like his own is doing. “This is nice. I’ve been… hoping for this.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, breathless and quiet. His arms tighten around Cas’ waist, head tipping down until his nose is buried in Cas’ wild hair. “Me too. Didn’t really think it’d happen this way, but… I will  _ not  _ complain.”

Cas turns in his arms, until he can look up at his face, and his stomach feels all warm and fuzzy. “I adore you,” he says, and Dean’s lips stretch into the cutest smile ever.

“I adore you, too,” Dean whispers back, but when he leans down, Cas ducks away so his lips land on Cas’ forehead instead of against his own lips.

“I’m sorry,” he rumbles. “But as much as I want this, I’m not gonna get you sick, too. You can kiss me all you want as soon as whatever-this-is is finally over, though.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. As  _ much  _ as you want,” Cas mumbles, and then he buries his head against Dean’s shoulder and unabashedly breathes in his woodsy, leathery smell for the very first time ever. 

Maybe they end up not watching any tv at all. Maybe Cas falls asleep buried against Dean’s shoulder in mere seconds. Maybe they spend all of the weekend wrapped up on the couch together, only interrupted by Dean cooking some food and brewing tea and feeding Cas cough syrup. 

Maybe, just maybe, Cas falls impossibly harder for his best friend during those few days cooped up together — and tells him so by the end of the weekend.


End file.
